Worth it
by Jinxgirl
Summary: After her breast implant surgery over the summer after sophomore year, Brittany tends to Santana and tries to help her determine whether she is pleased with her decision. Brittana implied.


The first thing Santana became aware of, as she struggled to open her eyes in the brightly lit hospital room, was how difficult it was to breathe. Even before she registered any pain, she could tell that her chest felt tight, as though a new wait were resting upon it, and her breathing was somewhat restricted, as though she could not draw a full breath. Although she was only semi-conscious, this was enough for a spike of panic to grip her heart, and she tried to speak, to sit up, and found it impossible. Only a weak, choked cry escaped her, and as a dulled pain in her chest began to impact her, Santana's eyes cracked open, her vision blurred. She was startled to realize that her cheeks were wet, new tears slowly wetting the sides of her hair, and she blinked, newly frightened by this as well. Something must have gone wrong…why couldn't she breathe? Why was she crying, how badly had they hurt her?

"Wh-wh-" she started, her voice dry and hoarse, and even she wasn't sure what it was she was trying to ask. As confused and scared as she was, she was also still so exhausted she could barely keep her eyes open, and they were slipping closed even as she spoke. "What…"

A gentle hand took hold of hers then, squeezing firmly, a thumb stroking over its back. Another hand wiped Santana's cheeks tenderly, smoothing back her hair, and Santana recognized her mother's voice dimly, soft, soothing.

"Shhh, it is all right, mija. The doctors and your papi say it is normal to cry when coming out from anesthesia, it does not mean anything, so do not worry. You are all right, Santanita, you are safe. You can sleep…you're all right. Everything went well, and you're all right."

Santana's mouth formed more words, but only silence emerged from her lips. As her eyes drifted closed again, she could feel her mother's hand, stroking back her hair, and she was pretty sure she could hear her mother whisper one more sentence, but perhaps it was a dream or a wish.

"Brittany will be here when you wake up next, mija…"

When Santana came back into consciousness for the second time, it was easier and faster for her to become more fully aware of her surroundings and circumstances. There was the same heaviness to her chest, a feeling of being weighted down, and it was still difficult to breathe quite as easily as she normally could, but this no longer panicked her quite as much, now that she could remember why this was. She could now see that she was sitting, propped up, in a hospital bed, naked from the waist up, except, of course, for the bandages and gauze firmly wrapped around her chest. The complications of breast implants had been ones she had been informed of thoroughly before her papi had signed to allow her to do so, and Santana had mentally understood what the process and the recovery time afterward would entail; she had heard the doctors and her father both warn her that the fact that she was only sixteen and of small frame would probably impact the length of recovery time and the degree of pain involved. She had heard all this, and she thought she understood it. She was a Cheerio, after all, used to enduring high levels of physical and mental discomfort. She had soldiered on still smiling through numerous small and slightly more serious injuries, and her muscles were constantly aching and sore from her strenuous workouts every day. She had sometimes gone over a week without eating anything and drinking only Sue's special concoctions. She thought she could take any strain put on her body without flinching- what was a little pad tugged under her breast fat in comparison?

But when she became alert for the second time since the surgery's conclusion, her chest ached so badly Santana didn't even want to try to envision what her breasts might look like, beneath the gauze. No doubt they wouldn't be the perfectly shaped and sized manmade masterpieces she had selected. She would be lucky if they were recognizable as being covered with human skin. Black and blue and green all over was the likely color scheme, and they were probably swollen and misshapen as well, if the way she felt was anything to judge by.

The only thing that gave her a sense of comfort then was the fact that sitting right beside her hospital bed, in a very uncomfortable-looking plastic hospital chair, was Brittany, just as she thought her mom had told her she would be. Seeing Brittany's soft blue eyes gazing across to her, the warm, sympathetic smile the blonde gave her when Santana turned her head her way, Santana felt her lips tremble, and renewed tears came to her eyes. She was so damn glad to see her now.

"Britt," she whispered, her voice lower than she had expected both in tone and volume, and Brittany stood, stretching briefly so her small tank top rose to show her navel. She smiled again at Santana as she took a step closer, reaching out to cup Santana's cheek in her hand.

"Morning, sleeping beauty."

She thumbed away one tear that escaped Santana, bending to lightly kiss her forehead, and Santana closed her eyes, breathing in shallowly through her nose and wincing at the resulting pulling sensation this caused to her chest. She opened her eyes, looking down at herself before looking back up at Brittany.

"I want to see them," she said quietly, but Brittany shook her head, sitting on the edge of Santana's bed and taking her hand. Like her mother had, she ran her thumb lightly over its back, but she also began to play with Santana's fingers after a few moments, manipulating them gently in a way that brought a ghost of a smile to Santana's dry lips.

"You know you can't, Sanny. The doctor will come in and look in a little bit but you'll mess it all up if you try to see. You have to let them do their magic and make it all better first."

"They probably look so ugly right now," Santana muttered, trying to lift one shoulder to wipe at her face, but the resulting pain this brought her caused her to suck in her breath sharply. Brittany reached to wipe the second escaped tear for her, kissing the spot on her cheek it had previously been, and stroked her hair, squeezing her other hand.

"They'll be so pretty when they're all finished, Santana. But it's like a cake. It's ugly and boring in the box but once it's all finished it's pretty and so delicious. You have to wait to be baked a little longer, that's all."

Santana tried to smile, but felt her effort falter, even as Brittany's gentle hand continued to stroke through her hair. She closed her eyes, wanting to be able to roll onto her side, wanting to feel Brittany's arms circle around her waist as the taller girl embraced her from behind, as Brittany so often had during their sleepovers, ever since middle school. Even the thought of doing so made her cringe, however, and she exhaled audibly as Brittany leaned to kiss her temple.

"How am I gonna go to the bathroom…how am I gonna run and keep from getting fat?" she muttered, although the doctor's had told her already that she would probably spend no more than a day in the hospital after the surgery was complete, and even this was only an extra precaution due to her being underage. She knew too that they had told her she could only walk for the first week after, that it should be at least a few weeks before she began to exercise normally, but now, with the pain she is feeling, the thought of doing so even weeks from now seems impossible, even overwhelming. But how is she going to be able to go so long without it? What if it gets her so far out of shape that she's no longer allowed to be captain of the squad?

A flutter of panic spreads through her chest, and Santana gasps for breath, squeezing Brittany's hand hard. Brittany kisses her head, then takes her hand between both of hers and holds it up against her cheek.

"You'll be brand new in a little bit," she said confidently. "Better than ever, even. And if you need help I'll help you. I can be your arms and your legs for you. We can share. Mine are pretty awesome arms and legs to have, you know."

Santana laughed faintly, nodding, and when she flinched again at even this small movement, her body protesting, Brittany noticed this and let her hand drift up to her neck, beginning to massage it lightly. Santana closed her eyes, soaking up the gentle, circular pressure of Brittany's thumbs working against her sore muscles. A soft whine escaped her before she could stop herself when she felt Brittany pull back, and she opened her eyes, looking up towards her- only to see that Brittany had now somehow produced a rather large and overstuffed plush cat toy, which she held up to her. Where Brittany had stashed this without Santana managing to see, Santana didn't know, but she found herself smiling at it, more so because of how typically Brittany the gesture was than because of the grumpy-looking stuffed cat itself.

"It's from Lord Tubbington," Brittany informed her, making the cat wave a fat paw in front of her face. "He gave his official approval for a representative to come in his place. He really wanted to come see you himself, but I was afraid to bring him because he might try to steal your painkillers, and you really need them. It wouldn't be good at all for him to go back to his addictive ways, and I would be so mad at him for making you be in pain just because he couldn't resist."

Santana had long ago given up trying to understand anything to do with Lord Tubbington, so she just smiled, reaching out with one hand for the cat, and cuddled it to her cheek, exhaling. The fur was soft, and she briefly closed her eyes, rubbing it against her skin as she replied.

"No, wouldn't want that. I understand his…need to resist temptation."

"I'm glad you understand, Sanny. He really did want to see you," Brittany assured her. As she sat down on the end of Santana's bed again, she took a strand of Santana's hair between her fingers, rubbing it in between and twirling it. Lightly tickling Santana's nose with it, she asked her, "Do you want me to get you something? The nurse came and checked you while you were sleeping, she's probably coming back soon. But I can get you something now if you want it."

At the tickling sensation on her nose, Santana held back a sneeze, the tight sensation in her chest growing worse with this gesture. She reached up a hand, meaning to brush Brittany's wrist away, but ended up wrapping her fingers around it, holding on. She squeezed, swallowing, in an effort to banish the dryness in her throat as she told her, "I'm thirsty…can you get me something to drink?"

"Sure," Brittany agreed, pulling back. "I'll go get you some water. Maybe I can find you a bendy straw too, or get you one of those swirly crazy ones."

"I want Coke Zero," Santana shook her head, hearing the sleepy petulance in her own voice but not caring. "Can't you get me that?"

Smiling down at her, Brittany shook her head, taking the cat from Santana and lightly bopping her hand with it. "You know you can't have that yet. I asked the nurses lots of questions while you were being such a sleepyhead so I could take awesome care of you when you go home, and they said no way, not today. We can ask when they come in but not right now. Nope."

To her own surprise, this denial on Brittany's behalf, from someone she was used to being able to generally manipulate into giving her way, caused Santana to choke up, hot tears pricking at her eyes, more persistently than they had earlier. It wasn't really the fact that she couldn't have the soda, or even that Brittany was telling her no, that upset her, or at least, it wasn't the dominant factor. It was the fact that she was too weak and sore and groggy still to be able to convince her otherwise, to be able to get up and get it herself. It was the fact that she was still in pain and she was scared to even look down at herself, with or without the bandages, and see what she looked like now. It was the fact that she had somehow not expected this or anticipated how it would feel, and her fear that no matter what the doctors said about speedy recovery, she would always feel this way- forever weak, near helpless, and now ugly as well.

"I can't do anything," she muttered, blinking rapidly, feeling her features start to scrunch up and her lips begin to quiver as she turned her face away from Brittany, fighting and knowing she was losing the battle not to cry. "I can't do anything, it's not fair. I can't do ANYTHING!"

She felt tears start to drip down her cheeks, soaking into her neck, and Santana let out an audible sob, sniffling and swallowing repeatedly as she continued to try to choke back further tears. Brittany's hands were there again immediately, wiping her cheeks, stroking her face and arm before she slid her arm beneath Santana's shoulders, leaning to embrace her in an awkward standing position as she rested her cheek against the side of Santana's head. Her lips pressed against Santana's hair as she spoke to her softly, still stroking her fingertips over her arm.

"I'll help you, Sanny. I'll help you get to the bathroom and put that medicine stuff on your boobs, and get you the things you want, if you're allowed to have them. I'll be like your little slave girl…totally hot. And I can help you take baths, which is also totally fun and sexy. I'll be your slave girl and your nurse, and that's, like, every guy's fantasy, all for you."

Santana couldn't deny that Brittany's description definitely made her present situation seem more appealing. In fact, just the thought of Brittany in Santana's own nurse outfit, too large and too tall for it to quite fit right, bending over to pick up something Santana dropped, touching Santana's bare skin and helping her wash her hair and scrub her back…

She found her breath growing short for an entirely new reason now, and she tried to force these new images out of her mind, because why the hell were they so interesting and exciting to her to think about anyway? It was just Brittany. Brittany was a GIRL, Brittany was her FRIEND. Sure, they messed around sometimes…a lot of times…basically every time Brittany slept over or either of them was anywhere near alcohol…but that didn't mean anything. It wasn't like she was REALLY hot for her. It was just…something to do. And anyway, Brittany thought anyone who breathed was potentially sexy, it wasn't like she was really hot for Santana exclusively.

It was this tangled confusion of thought rather than Brittany's proposal itself that bothered Santana, so she eventually shook her head, even as her tears lessened somewhat.

"I don't want you to see my boobs until they don't look like Frankenstein's bride's. They're gonna be ugly for a while."

"San, no part of you could ever be ugly," Brittany promised her, and though her voice was quiet, it was firm, even stern. "So stop that. You're totally hot, totally gorgeous, and I'm going to help you do stuff so you can be all better soon."

It wasn't often that Brittany took on this tone of voice, but when she did, Santana knew not to argue with her. She nodded slowly, sniffling one last time, and whispered, "Okay," relaxing slightly when she saw Brittany smile, squeezing her shoulders.

"Good."

Another few minutes passed, with Brittany slowly rubbing different parts of Santana's skin, sometimes her shoulder or arm, sometimes her cheek or neck, and Santana felt herself relaxing, her eyes beginning to droop. She was still so tired, the pain in her chest dulled but still very much present, and as she half shut her eyes, she spoke up, her voice barely audible, turning her face towards Brittany's.

"Brittany…it hurts."

Brittany pressed her lips to the side of Santana's neck, moving her hair away first, and Santana wondered hazily if the blonde could feel her pulse speed up beneath them, half hoped that she would remain there, close enough for Santana to feel her breath against her.

"I know, sweetie," she said softly. "Are you sorry you did this?"

And for a few moments, Santana wasn't sure. She thought about it; about her relative immobility, for a few days, her inability to exercise, for several weeks, and her fears of weight gain and losing all athletic prowess. She thought about her helplessness and the pain, the superiority and possible mocking of others if they knew what she had done. She thought about her frustration and her fear that maybe, just maybe this wouldn't all be temporary after all.

But she also thought about the boy at that party, not quite a month ago, laughing drunkenly as he cupped her bare breast, and commenting on its small size, compared to the last girl he had slept with. She thought of the jealousy and insecurity she felt in the locker room, at the beach or pool, seeing other girl's well-filled bras and knowing that theirs was not due to push-up or padding. She thought of how many times she had looked at herself critically in the bathroom mirror, how many times she had cried, entirely dissatisfied with her appearance, where no one could see. She thought about the attention she hoped to get from everyone, when she came back to school next year, about the envy of other girls and her added security to her status as most popular. She thought about how maybe, just maybe, she would finally look at herself and like what she saw…and yet, now she wasn't sure if it was worth it at all.

"I don't know," she said honestly, and her fingers reached out for Brittany's, squeezing hard as her eyes sought out the other girl's. "Please, Brittany…please don't tell anyone. Please."

It didn't ease her mind very much when Brittany promised her; although she knew the girl would never intentionally break the promise, she had a way of accidentally letting things slip that never seemed to work in her favor. As Brittany continued to stroke her hair, holding her hand, and Santana's eyes began to drift closed, even as she heard the girl's murmured voice begin to tell her a softly worded story about Lord Tubbington, she could not quite relax.

How could she ever be sure that this was worth it for herself, when she had done it for the reaction of others?


End file.
